These Things Belong to You
by altairattorney
Summary: We are not the only masters of our fate, but what we do can change it. And, probably for the first time, I think I understand what he meant. – Diary entries written in the year 433 of the Third Era, as Martin Septim contemplates his fate throughout the Oblivion Crisis.


**These Things Belong to You**

_19th Hearthfire_

The past few days have equally been a blessing and a torture. I can only be relieved, of course, to find myself here — surrounded by the most capable warriors in Cyrodiil, safe within these ancient walls. Still, fears and regrets I cannot define haunt me night and day.

The quiet solitude of this place sets me thinking, more often than I would like. The walls of my room, standing so strong around me, remind me of demolished ones; the wooden smell of the roof brings back the sight of blood and fire, as we were forced, desperate, to let Kvatch burn in front of our eyes. And even so-

Never, not even then, has my powerlessness been more infuriating than now. Jauffre is constantly inviting me to rest, or to collect my thoughts — I think I have lost count of the worried glances he casts at me when he thinks I am not looking. But I cannot stop myself. I can't help measuring these floors in long steps, looking for a word, an idea worth clinging to. I need to focus.

I know too well. For the fierce task that awaits me, I need my sanity intact.

* * *

_30th Hearthfire_

Our hero made it here alive. Such relief! He brought the trophy of a great victory, and news of a terrible defeat. I had never seen the wounds of guilt cut so deep in anyone's heart, not even in myself. I tried to relieve him, for it was not his fault; but he turned away, ashamed of meeting my eyes, and did not say a word. Once again, I felt useless.

We are the same, in a way. It is written all over his face, in every moment; he asked for none of this, and barely knows what is going on. How relentlessly he fights, though — it never ceases to amaze me. I never saw his patience flinch, nor his strength fade, in front of requests most mortals would deem impossible to fulfill. Like me, he didn't have any room for thought. He still doesn't. Yet he stood up, he fought from the very beginning — and look at me, prisoner of my own doubts...

If nothing else, I have made progress with the titles and the formality. I am still not sure I'll ever get used to it.

* * *

_2nd Frostfall_

My hands are shaking, my eyes burn with unnatural intensity. Eager as I am to get it done, I must be careful. Driven by haste, and maybe — I fear — a curiosity beyond my control, I haven't put down the Mysterium Xarxes in two days. I hope collecting my thoughts, with a good night's rest, will be enough to wipe away the worst.

Then again, how well could I sleep? What peace could I find, constantly feeling the gaze of the Daedra just beyond my shoulder?

I know the touch of their serpentine magic. I wish I didn't. Yet it is our only hope, and the one way I can help end all of this.

I remember the days of my youth — the way my blood boiled, the thrill of power. I still recognize the fire, the madness, behind every letter of that wicked text.

It is disgust, ironically, to help me look forward and never turn back.

* * *

_23rd Frostfall_

On one hand, I truly can't help feeling remorseful. I am however, too well aware of the importance of my person. The shell of flesh and bones I inhabit, as far as we know, is irreplaceable. I cannot take risks — for now, I cannot go out there and fight.

And out there, as I work relentlessly to make sense of our future, the storm of Oblivion is raging on other people. While the fireplace of the Blades keeps my hands warm, valiant soldiers are devoured by the fire of the terrible realm. As I write these words, in the heart of a cold night, their destroyed bodies are freezing on the ground.

Even so, I am proud of those people. I am proud of their courage and grateful for their endurance. I am proud of the Blades, and of us all — each and every one of us is making the best of their time, knowing that every minute put to waste may mean one more life in Dagon's maws.

* * *

_27th Frostfall_

Wonderful news! We are making enormous, swift progress. We can only thank our friend for this.

He came back yesterday, at dusk, letting his steed guide. Upon crossing the gate, he almost fainted. Worry and triumph danced in my heart as we helped him up, Jauffre, Baurus and I. He shook his head fiercely, even in that agony; then, mere moments before passing out, he managed to hand me his bag.

The blood, and the Daedric artifact — he had both! He had left right away, after closing the Bruma gate. He had crossed half of Cyrodiil so fast, just to make it for the end of the month! I had my room cleaned and prepared for him; there is no way I am letting him leave, not before at least a few days pass. A bedroll will do just fine for me.

To keep him company after such a long journey, I have worked in there today. There is an elegant desk by my bed — I had never used it before, and I almost regret it. It smells of well-aged wood, of wisdom.

His eyes were distant. I fear for him; I know it wasn't just because of the effort. He talked for long hours, sharing with me the otherworldly secrets he had witnessed — he told me of Sancre Tor, of the ancient chains binding the past, and the terrible fees the Daedra require.

He knew I could understand. We didn't need to say much. I looked at his grave paleness, my chest heavy, and he grimaced.

I had him swear he would sleep well tonight, magic or not. I smile as I hear him snoring, even from here. If nothing else, I am sure he is a fine alchemist now.

* * *

_16th Sun's Dusk_

There was silence as we came back from the war council.

I told my friend I was sorry. I wish I had had better news in store, upon his return from Miscarcand. After such grave efforts, he deserved it.

Still, he has a wisdom that comes from experience, the kind of wisdom I feel I will never have. He told me there was no point in apologizing — for nothing, from the very beginning, fully depended on us. However, he told me not to lose heart. We are not the only masters of our fate, but what we do can change it. And, probably for the first time, I think I understand what he meant.

The armor made me different. Wearing it felt so new, yet so natural — it was like entering another stage, another chapter of this long story.

I just retired to my quarters. He was sitting in the Great Hall with Baurus and Jauffre. I shared an intense look with my brothers in arms; I still feel it inside, giving me strength.

I'll try to keep it close, with the memory of their faces, as I dim the lights. Tomorrow is a day of battle. I may never see them again.

* * *

_19th Sun's Dusk_

The weather is surprisingly mild this year. The wind blowing in the courtyard is no more than a chilly breeze. It makes for good company, as I read and write away this afternoon that never seems to end.

He has been in the portal for over three hours. I have prayed to Akatosh, disheartened, for him not to be wounded… it would be a tragedy to lose him now, so close to our safety, to the peace we have so long sought for.

As I performed the ritual, the objects felt heavier than usual. Hundreds of lost lives weighed down on my hands, right there, in between my fingers. It is but a prelude, I guess — a grim reminder, painful and necessary, of what it really means to be an Emperor.

The colour of the fall is turning into winter; dark flocks of birds dart across the sky, pointy and swift like dozens of black arrows. Their shadows rain down on us, on the Temple and the edges of our blades.

I see order in their wings, and chaos in their movements. I see the two halves of the world come together, from the depths of every myth and tale. I see Anu and Padomay, day and night, the eternally entwined voices of laughter and tears.

Someone calls from the other end of the courtyard. I think he is finally back. I have no fear.

I know what I must do now.

* * *

_20th Sun's Dusk_

I told Jauffre to meet me at dawn. Nobody knows I am awake this early, way before the morning erases the night sky. I like the idea of keeping this moment to myself — for the rest of this long day is going to be ours, and to reveal what fate has in store for us all.

Mere minutes ago, I opened the door in silence. I found my friend, sleeping on the night guard's bedroll. It seems Baurus has agreed to leave him his post tonight. No matter how hard they try to hide it, they worry about me to the point they lose sleep.

It was not a refreshing sight, actually. He seemed to be haunted by the worst nightmares. Before closing the door again, I felt myself lower my eyes.

I cannot say I am not worried. This is the end of a war, maybe of an era. Before the next sun goes down, we will be done with this — and the key to that conclusion, regardless of what we wish for, lies in our hands only.

I wonder what I will think, if I ever get back to the words I am writing. I wonder what will have changed, and what will be left for us to cherish. There is something, however, I know for sure already — I will never regret what all of us have done.

It is almost time to go. In a few hours, I will wear my new title, alongside with its garments and its responsibilities. I will open my door. I will meet my friend, whom the Divines wanted to walk the same path as me. I will meet Jauffre and Baurus, sleepless with constant worry and care. I will meet my brothers. Together, we will march.

I will make sure not to lose them. They are the one treasure I will ever care about, until our destiny decides otherwise.

It is just him, and just them, I want on my side today.


End file.
